


Please Pass the Amisk

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-10
Updated: 1999-05-10
Packaged: 2018-11-11 04:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: "...What Benny might serve if he and Ray were to celebrate Thanksgiving together..."  Does amisk really taste just like turkey?  ORIGINALLY archived November 24, 1996.





	Please Pass the Amisk

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Please Pass The Amisk

Hi all! 

My mother called one evening while I was watching North (for the 100th time) to ask what I was planning on bringing for Thanksgiving dinner. This started me thinking about what Benny might serve if he and Ray were to celebrate Thanksgiving together... 

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Alliance. 

**Rated: PG for one swear word**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

# PLEASE PASS THE AMISK

"That turkey smells terrific!" 

These were Raymond Vecchio's first words of greeting to his best friend, Benton Fraser, spoken as he closed the door of apartment 3-J at 221 West Racine. Today the dilapidated old building was quiet, warm and welcoming, filled with good smells of Thanksgiving dinners being prepared by the tenants. 

"You're just in time," Fraser said, as he removed a blue roasting pan from the oven. "I'll be ready to put the food on the table as soon as I carve the meat." 

"What can I do?" Ray asked. 

"You could set the table, if you don't mind," Fraser said. 

"I can do that," Ray replied, opening the cupboard. "You know, Ma's real disappointed that I'm not going to be home for dinner. I haven't missed a Thanksgiving meal in twenty years. I had to promise her you would come to our house for Christmas before she'd let me out of the house." 

"Ray, if it means that much to your mother we could have done this another time," Fraser said. 

"No, no, no," Ray said, dismissing Fraser's concerns with a wave of his hand. "This is the first time we've ever spent a holiday at your place." He was silent for a moment and then added, "Though I'm not sure I can eat without all the screaming and arguing." 

"Well, I suppose I *could* go down the hall and get Mrs. Gamez and her children," Fraser said, thoughtfully, as he began slicing the meat. 

"Not in this lifetime, you don't!" Ray said, forcefully, placing two plates and some silverware on the table. "Today it's just you and me." 

Diefenbaker poked his head out from under the table and whined. 

"Oh, and you too, Dief," Ray said, reaching under the table to ruffle Diefenbaker's fur. 

"Could you set these on the table, please?" Fraser asked, holding out a bowl of jellied red berries. 

"Sure thing," Ray replied, taking the bowl and scooping a spoonful of the sauce into his mouth. "Mmmm...I love fresh cranberries." 

"They're not cranberries, Ray," Fraser said. 

"They're not?" Ray asked, 

"No. They're rose hips," Fraser replied, placing the platter of meat on the table. "Okay, I think that's it. Shall we eat?" 

Ray sat down, eyeing the rest of the food suspiciously. "That's the strangest looking turkey I've ever seen." 

"Oh, it's not turkey, Ray," Fraser said, taking a seat across from Ray. "It's Amisk. You've already tried the rose hips and these are mashed Indian potato bulbs. Orogenia linearifolia, to be precise." 

"Gre-at," Ray said, sarcastically. "And what do we have to drink? Cactus juice?" 

"Don't be silly, Ray," Fraser said, tucking a napkin in the collar of his faded blue, Henley shirt. "I couldn't get any cactus milk this time of the year. We're having spruce tea." 

"I see," Ray said. 

"Here," Fraser said, holding out the meat platter. "Have some Amisk." 

"Oh, no! No way! I am *not* going to eat that!" Ray said, shaking his head for emphasis. 

"I thought we agreed to have Thanksgiving dinner together?" Fraser asked, puzzled. 

"That's right," Ray agreed. "We *did* agree to have Thanksgiving dinner together, but I was expecting a turkey with all the trimmings. You know...stuffing, gravy, corn, Pumpkin pie...the usual stuff. Not this... what did you call it?" 

"Amisk," Fraser supplied. 

"Right. Amisk, rose lips, some kind of potato bulbs and spruce tea," Ray said. 

"*Hips*, Ray," Fraser said. "Not lips." 

"Hips, lips, who cares?" Ray asked, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. 

"Well, I do," Fraser replied. "You see, Ray, rose hips are a ready supply of nutritious food that lasts through the fall and often all winter. They are easily picked and ground on a metate for a meal or for flour, but the fresh fruit is also good when cooked. Their numerous seeds are hard and must be cracked or ground before they can be eaten. In fact, rose hips are a particularly valuable part of a wilderness diet because of their abundant Vitamin C which both averts and remedies scurvy. The Inuit..." 

"Oh, no," Ray groaned, interrupting. "I knew it! I *knew* this was going to turn into another one of your damned Eskimo stories." 

"...the Inuit use the stems of the plant for arrow shafts," Fraser finished, undaunted. 

"Fraser, in case you haven't noticed, we're not in the wilderness. This is Chicago. Nobody eats rose hips in Chicago." 

"They don't?" Fraser asked. 

"No," Ray replied, smugly. 

"Oh. Oh, dear." Fraser said, taken aback. "Why not?" 

"Because we get our vitamins out of a bottle!" Ray shouted, standing up. "You are the most annoying man I know! Just...get your hat and let's go." 

"Ray," Fraser said, firmly. "I have been slaving over a hot stove all day and I am not going to let this food go to waste." 

"All right! All right! Fine!" Ray replied, throwing his hands up in defeat and sitting back down. "We'll eat here. But, then we're going to Ma's for dessert. Agreed?" 

"Agreed," Fraser said, mollified. 

"Yes?" Ray asked, surprised. Usually he got an argument out of Fraser about eating at the Vecchio house. 

"Yes, Ray," Fraser said. 

"Well...good. Fine. Please pass the Amisk." Ray said. He took the plate from Fraser and speared a piece of meat. "Benny?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"What's a metate?" Ray asked, spooning some of the mashed bulbs onto his plate. 

"It's a rock, Ray," Fraser explained. "A large, smooth, flat-topped rock where you place seeds to grind them with a mano, or handstone. A mano is a loaf-shaped rock that is flat on one side." 

"I see," Ray said, skeptically. "Do you have any gravy for these potatoes?" 

"In the green bowl," Fraser said. 

"What was it you called the potatoes?" Ray asked, sniffing the gravy cautiously. 

"Indian potato bulbs," Fraser said. "It's a tiny plant with basal leaves that look like bird tracks. As a matter of fact, it's one of the most delectable roots found in the mountains. The bulb can be boiled, steamed, roasted, or baked. I chose to boil them and then mash them with goat's milk and fresh butter. They're very tasty, Ray." 

"I'm sure they are, Benny. And I suppose that you steeped a bunch of pine needles in boiling water to make the tea," Ray said, sarcastically, tossing a piece of meat to Dief. 

Dief swallowed the meat in one gulp and looked at Ray expectantly. 

"Well, of course, I did," Fraser replied. "How else would you make spruce tea?" 

"Benny?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"What's Amisk?" Ray asked, tossing another chunk of meat in Dief's direction. 

"It's roast beaver," Fraser said. 

"Beaver?" Ray asked in astonishment. "You're feeding me *beaver* for Thanksgiving?" 

"It tastes just like turkey, Ray," Fraser said. 

"I don't care if it tastes like beluga caviar," Ray shouted, jumping up from the table. "C'mon, Fraser, we're going to Ma's for a *real* Thanksgiving dinner." 

"But, Ray," Fraser said. "What will I do with all this food?" 

"We'll take it with us," Ray said. "We can put it on the table with the rest of the stuff. Besides, if we mix it with a little Life(TM) cereal, my cousin Mikey will eat it -- he likes everything." 

"Understood." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Okay, okay, so there was an old Life cereal commercial that came on while I was talking to my mom. What can I say? It just sounded like Ray! 

Thank you kindly, Jeff King! Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll!! 

Steph (who thinks she hears a nest of furry nightcrawlers) 

sasmith@surfer.pcsonline.com 

* * *


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